A Rohan Fairytale
by The Black Lady of Rohan
Summary: What must we face to get a fairy tale ending? What if you have more than one trial to get through before you over-come evil? This is the story of a girl... Warning, this was written a LONG time ago
1. The Story Begins

Don't own anything. Tolkien is God. You know the drill.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Plot: Eowyn from ages 10 and up basically the story of her life. She seems to have the worst trouble just getting by in the world. This is about how she finds her freedom.  
  
Ok, the author is going to stop babbling now so the bored stiff (but still lovely readers) will actually read the story and hopefully review and want more.  
  
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The Story Begins.  
  
The young girl ran through the streets of Edoras, the tears running down her face, mingling with her golden locks. The tears on this girl came often, so the people she passed paid them no heed.  
  
The cobbled streets were hard on her bare feet, torn with the cuts from many rough stones. The simple white dress she wore was ripped to shreds, and covered in what looked like blood.  
  
The blood was also in her matted hair, and dried in rivulets down her face, quite noticeable to the eye, yet still no one wondered. No one cared.  
  
No one had cared for a long time, so used to it that they were, and they knew they could do nothing about it. The girl would not except help, she called herself a survivor. Others just called her a loaner.  
  
It had not always been this way, after her mother had died of an ailing after Orcs had slain her father, the girl had been surrounded by only men, and had been forced to change her whole lifestyle. Luckily she had managed just fine, but as she got older, the world just seemed to get tougher, so it left her hanging on to the shreds.  
  
The girl slowed down to a steady walk, looking around confidently and glaring at the small children who dared look at her and snigger.  
  
She reached the outside walls of Edoras and sneaked into the shadows before the guards could see her. The girl knew, thanks to a conversation she had heard, between her cousin and uncle at dinner the previous day, that Orc activity on the plains had increased. This particular girl was not stupid, oh no. She knew that no maid nor child was to be allowed out of the city. Yet her heart yearned for adventure, and she needed to clear her head. Somehow she would get out. She had to before he could find her.  
  
Huddled in a corner, barely daring to breathe, she watched the guards closely, hoping to be able to find a break in the pattern so she could slip through. Though only ten years of age she could quite easily slip past, using her height as an attribute.  
  
Unfortunately today, her luck was not going to hold out.  
  
"Just what do you think your doing young lady?" A snake-like voice hissed in her ear. Her plan destroyed, slowly and timidly she turned round. A snake-like face met her own, a squashed nose, slitted and grotesque, pressed against hers. Rotten breath reached her nose- Eowyn grimaced, it smelled of rotten eggs. Only one person it could be- Grima Wormtounge, the kings adviser and the worst person to have caught her.  
  
Eowyn backed away in fear, only to catch herself a second later. To show weakness to this man in particular was a very bad idea. You had to look after yourself in the world she was living in, especially when the man you fear the most, the man that even your older brother can not save you from, lives right at your door.  
  
She let out an involuntary wail as he grabbed her by the hair; and dragged her with tears leaking out of her eyes, with a smug smile of triumph on his face back to the golden hall.  
  
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Wormtounge slammed Eowyn against the wall with the force of an angry bull. His deep soulless eyes caught her in their grasp and made her squirm.  
  
"You would do well not to defy the king my sweet princess." He spat at her, moving his head into the light. It was only then that Eowyn noticed the deep gash on his temple, a mark caused by an encounter with her knife an hour before.  
  
She smiled inwardly to herself with satisfaction, he had gained it while trying to get her to go to the kings chamber. Only Eowyn did not trust what he might do to her and had refused to comply; in the resulting tussle he had gained the cut. Trying to escape him before he could gain his senses, she had tumbled down some rocks with knife like points- that was how her dress was torn and bloodstained.  
  
Bringing her thoughts back to the present, she noticed with dread that he had a look of gleeful anticipation showing on his features. Seeing her gaze on him, he started again. "Does the little madam think she is too good for the kings orders? Does she believe herself to be too good to have to bow down too those above her?" Wormtounge tormented her, trying to provoke her: It was working.  
  
"Maybe it is not me who does not follow his orders, but his advisor himself!" Eowyn rose up to his bait, her pride and anger at being treated so winning over her common sense.  
  
Wormtounge looked pleased, in truth he had not expected it to work so easily. Yet here she was, a proud chin stuck out from her body, but falling back into place as the realisation of what she had just said crashed down on her.  
  
Eowyn knew the risks about playing Worntoung's game, yet it was too late to back down now; he would see it as a sign of weakness and that would not bode well for her. You walked a risky path if you competed in a battle of words with the kings advisor, and he would often bend the rules too his liking.  
  
"So, the madam deigns to speak to us mere mortals who she thinks inferior. Tell me then, oh wise one, what would your king say if he heard you speaking in such a way? Would you wish me too tell him for you?" His scorning laugh mocked and tour at her, breaking down her defences.  
  
Close to tears, she shook her head adamantly.  
  
"Good" He snarled. "Let us not keep him waiting then."  
  
And dragging her by the hair again, ignoring the whimper she gave, he manhandled her towards the throne room.  
  
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A few notes here-  
  
1. I really really really NEED a beta like NOW! Other wise this story will be so bad that you will feel like killing yourself. Please email me if you're interested. I'm not going to update unless I get a beta.  
  
2. I know it's not exactly smooth flowing, but that's what I need a beta for (hint, hint, pretty please with chocolate on top!)  
  
3. REVIEW! (You know you want to, yes you do, come on. Oh just do it!) 


	2. Ill Tidings

Hey guys! Tynsin's back! And as always she doesn't own anything!  
  
Lets have a big round of applause for She who gives Migraines and an even bigger one for Dernhelm, both because of excellent (and very different beta reading!)  
  
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Ill Tidings  
  
Eowyn sighed deeply. The events of her audience with the king kept repeating in her mind, constantly surfacing just when she thought she'd managed to forget it. She felt betrayed and she wondered at that, for the king had no allegiance to her, rather her to him and it was that unquestioning loyalty that bared her way now.  
  
  
  
Why must he suffer like this? She wondered. Why does he seem to be the only one whom Wormtounge can completely fool? And yet, we can do naught, for the Worm is both sly and cunning. He has his way with those weaker than he who might see through him- like me.  
  
  
  
She shuddered at the thought of his defeat of her that afternoon. While Grima may be called Wormtounge for his devious language and artful plots, he did not see reason to use them on those lesser than him in stature. Though she was young, there was something about her that his usual toleration with others would not stand. So for Eowyn especially, he did not have much patience, and would much sooner be rewarded by a quick fight than a yielding of words. Then again so would she, as she had proved before. The fact that she had won before just made it harder to bear.  
  
  
  
The thought of arguments led her mind back to the events of that she'd been trying to forget: her audience with the king. Eowyn remembered the scene vividly. The king siting on his throne, regarding her with those deep warm eyes of his. It was those eyes she loved the most; so different to Wormtounge's eyes which were full of malice and hatred. Her beloved kings' eyes spoke of depth and wisdom, but also of suppressed emotions, as if, secretly, he knew what was being done to him all to well, but was not capable of stopping it on his own.  
  
  
  
He had motioned her to come towards him without speaking a word. This she did, her unwilling feet sounding heavy on the stone floor, as if yelling their objection to whatever plan his advisor had in store for them. Theoden had smiled warmly at her, which made her feel a little better, but not enough to chase the fear that was steadily growing inside her away. As long as he was there, it was never a good thing. Wormtounge revelled in other peoples suffering, and would not bother to stay unless it would be something enjoyable for him.  
  
  
  
  
  
Her uncle took a deep breath and began slowly, as if trying to gain enough confidence for what had to be said. "Eowyn, my child," as he seemed to gain the needed confidence, he began softly and held up a hand to stop her interrupting as she opened her mouth to speak.  
  
  
  
"You are now almost eleven years of age and I feel that you know very little of the outside world." He paused and seemed to try and think of how to word what he had to say next.  
  
  
  
Eowyn's heart leapt, could he be letting her actually go somewhere? On an adventure? But she looked back at Wormtounge to see what his reaction would be to this seemingly good news, she noticed the way that Wormtounge was smirking at her. The look of relief on her face slowly melted off as she realised she had not won and that this would be something that she was not going to enjoy.  
  
  
  
Theoden cleared his throat and continued, "For this reason your schooling will need to be more advanced, if you are to go to the outside world as an ambassador of Rohan, you must lose your common street-boy ways and become a lady".  
  
  
  
Eowyn's mind clouded with a rising tide of emotions, confusion and suspicion at the head of the wave. Why was he -the king, telling her this and not her Governess - for Theoden rarely spoke of such matters with her as he was oft far to busy. And what was more, why? What was the point? An ambassador of Rohan? The future White Lady of the Mark was not an ambassador but a pretty court decoration to be admired from afar- little more than a serving maid with a Royal title. The point about her behaviour was true enough, but surely, that was for her father to say? Wasn't it?  
  
  
  
Confusion beat suspicion to the surface and she decided to act apon it.  
  
  
  
"My Lord," Eowyn blushing slightly at having to question him- the man she respected most- about his actions. "Should it not be my father's job to tell me this? If it is just about my schooling then."  
  
  
  
  
  
"Your Governess is away with her family." She was very surprised when he cut her off, because if there was one thing she had learned it was that a lady, especially of royal blood, was never interrupted if she was speaking, even the most obnoxious lords would not dare. Then again, it almost seemed like he did not consider her a lady, as he seemed to think she needed to learn how to be come an eye catching court decoration.  
  
  
  
"And it is not just about your schooling. You are to be taught to behave properly yes- but you are not going to stay in Rohan to do it." Her white features must have got even paler, and the inner turmoil that she was facing must have shown in her eyes since he began to speak simply as though the answer was obvious. "I'm sending you and Eomer to Minas Tirith."  
  
  
  
Her mind stopped working for a moment while she tried to make sense of what she just heard her beloved uncle say.  
  
  
  
Minas Tirith.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
In Gondor.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She and her brother gone.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The king alone with no defence against Wormtounge.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
That was the worst thing, Eowyn mused, she could deal with being sent to Gondor, but both her and Eomer? Eomer was really Grima's strongest protester. Unlike Eowyn, he (being fifteen) , had the strength and body to be able to beat Wormtounge in every fight. Also, as a male and (if very distant) possible heir to the throne he naturally commanded more respect amongst the people who's opinion of him could be Wormtounge's down- falling.  
  
  
  
So Grima had no other choice but to try and turn the king against his nephew. It was obviously not working as well as he'd hoped, for otherwise he would not have to persuade the king to send both of them away.  
  
  
  
For that is clearly what is going on here. I may be young yet I am not fooled. This is but a cover to get us out of Edoras! Anger burned into her very soul and her heart ached for the king and the malicious mind traps of his servant. , Her raging spirit turned its glare at the petty plot, no doubt constructed by Grima through his coy and deceitful ways.  
  
  
  
He will not vanquish our hope so easily. Eomer certainly will not go down without a fight, nor will I so long as my king still stands.  
  
  
  
Eowyn stood from where she had been sitting, a new resolve filling her. Walking confidently, she strode off to find her brother.  
  
  
  
************************************************************************** ********* Oh, what could that be? Just down there, it looks like. some kind of button? Be a dear why don't you and click it to find out for me. 


	3. A Change of Heart

Don't own it! *Sob* wait a sec. nope, still ain't mine!  
  
**************************************************************************** ************************************** His face moulded into that of anger, his rage boiling inside of him; Eomer let out a low growl and forced his way through the market stalls. Knocking down the merchant's wares in his rush to get through, a collapsing table trapping its owners foot-causing a yelp that raised the attention of a fellow. Curses were uttered, threats were mouthed yet still Eomer paid them no heed, his path clear and resolute in his mind.  
  
  
  
How dare he.  
  
  
  
How dare that slimy little worm contrive this.  
  
  
  
I swear on my father's grave that I will do all in my power to stop this.  
  
  
  
Lost in his world of revalry, Eomer failed to see his sisters face, her eyes wet with the tears of fear stemming from her brothers reaction - hurrying through the crowd behind him.  
  
  
  
A light touch on the shoulder brought Eomer back into the present. And it was with this that he finally saw Eowyn's sorrowful features and his rage instantly forgotten, as his love for her won over.  
  
  
  
Despite her silent weeping she stood, resolute like a solider that has faced the same battle many times before, and knew how it was going to end. She shook her head and fresh tears sprang anew from her eyes; baring her soul.  
  
  
  
"Eomer." Her compassionate voice sounded so alien to him in the pit of loathing he was trapped in. "This is not the way. Things will only get worse and you know it. Even though, of late, you do not think it."  
  
  
  
Slowly, he considered her words and tried; for her sake, to put his anger inside of him.  
  
  
  
"I can't seem to do that." Eomer took a deep breath and stated this painfully though his voice still retained a hint of his real feelings.  
  
  
  
His sister had a look in her eyes of pity -- which Eomer would not stand for. He hated being considered weak, even though he would take the advice of others when things got out of his control. However, he knew that Wormtongue had not defeated him yet. The pity had to stop.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Before he could voice his opinion, Eowyn glared at him: using a technique that had been working well for her the past five years. Her look of absolute control would have usually seemed foolish on one so young, but Eomer knew his sister's mind. They were alike in that sense. When she had made it up, nothing short of a fight would deter her. Unfortunately for her brother, he would not duel with her for fear of hurting her. There was nothing to do but listen to what she had to say.  
  
  
  
At once his sense of honour and loyalty intervened. The young man felt split, divided - he had to swallow to keep conflict inside him and not alert his sister to his weakness. Even then, she must have noticed, despite his best efforts, as her face was showing concern. Eowyn's loyal and trusting eyes came to rest on his and in that moment, Eomer knew that whatever happened, he must protect her at all costs. Even as the years past, at the beginning of all battles; the image of her face, pleading for him to listen and to make things right came to him. He would fight for her -- and she for him -- but neither would see the other slain. So, in that second and for the first time in his life: Eomer understood.  
  
  
  
Eomer drew her aside from the crowd, as they were getting more than a few curios looks. He embraced her, trying to soothe her fears away as he worked to defeat his. Gently he bent down and whispered in her ear. "Save your strength, my brave little Shield-maiden, the time for battle has not yet arisen. Come."  
  
  
  
Eowyn gave a small smile of triumph but had no time to speak before Eomer swept her away into the bustling crowd.  
  
  
  
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Theoden's mind was a daze. He could distantly remember Grima's words about sending Eowyn and Eomer to Gondor, but now was not sure why he had acted upon them. It just makes no sense.  
  
  
  
At that, the reasoning that had been swimming round the deeper, darker end of his mind surfaced.  
  
  
  
It makes perfect sense. The girl is getting far too foolhardy: running around the place like a wild thing. And Eomer. He is too headstrong and oft have I seen him opposing Grima of late. He needs to learn respect and restraint. I will not have him rebelling when I am in need of strong leaders to head the Riddermarks. My son, great though he is, cannot rule and advise all of my men.  
  
  
  
As much as I trust him, I need Eomer to trust me; not the whims of an enemy of court that I see him becoming on the matters of advising.  
  
  
  
Gondor will be good for him. It will give him the chance to see other nations and the ways of our allies. As this is Grima's council, mayhap he will see the logic in it and therefore see the logic in my most trusted friend. One of these days, we may wish to seek council from him. Yes, it is for the good of Rohan that I do this.  
  
  
  
With this matter settled, Theoden walked slowly onwards - smiling at the bustling crowd that past him as he made his way to his rooms.  
  
  
  
The wooden door creaked shut and he let out an involuntary sigh of relief, as the troubles of the day seemed to wash from his mind. There was no trouble, no hurt and Eowyn and Eomer would be just fine in Gondor - and he would be fine away from them. There was no care on the earth that would be able to penetrate his thoughts. Any that did, Grima would take care of it.  
  
  
  
"Everything is going to turn out for the best." Theoden mused aloud as with a slight groan from his muscles he slipped between the cool comforting sheets. He winced slightly as his joints popped, they seemed to be getting weaker by the day; a reminder of the old man he was becoming before his time. Theoden still remembered his younger, carefree days as simply the heir to the throne and not yet made to sit upon it. He remembered fields and trees, great fights and triumphs, of courtship, marriage and joy.  
  
  
  
Now, he was but a tiered and lonely old fool, whose Kingdom was failing and the strength with it. His wife gone and his son away, Eomer becoming traitorous and Eowyn falling into rebelliousness; there was very little to keep him going. Without the much-needed alliance with Isengaurd and from that the council of Saruman the White, along with the constant commitment by Grima to matters concerning the King, Theoden was very much convinced that though once great and noble - Rohan would become a dead and derelict wasteland.  
  
  
  
It is of great relief to my mind that I have advisors plenty, and for the good of the people I shall pay heed to their warnings even if I shy away from acting upon them. They are just thinking for the good of my lands - as must I.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Theoden sighed as he felt the remnants of his worries disappear - the comforting land of dreams beckoning.  
  
  
  
By the time the scream ran out through the halls of Edoras, Theoden was fast asleep.  
  
A/N high to my silent readers, it would be great to know your out there!  
  
Also thanks to GreyLadyBast and She who Gives Migraines for pointing out the cannon mistakes, went back and re-wrote them. If you see any more remember to tell me! 


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